


pastel princess // punk rock king

by hexburn (thestormapproaches)



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Feminization, Implied Daddy Kink, Implied Sexual Content, Insecurity, Lingerie, M/M, Pastel Boy - Freeform, Pastel/Punk, Punk Boy, THATS RIGHT FOLKS, broxah is a subby bara bottom, buff boy is nervous about being cutesy, rekkles tops broxah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-29 16:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21413092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestormapproaches/pseuds/hexburn
Summary: Martin always tells him that he's so pretty, but does Mads really look good like this?He... he isn't sure.Luckily, Mads has a wonderful boyfriend and dom who is always there to encourage him.
Relationships: Mads "Broxah" Brock-Pedersen/Martin "Rekkles" Larsson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	pastel princess // punk rock king

**Author's Note:**

> title vaguely based on Something Corporate's song, [Punk Rock Princess](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wkY617QMvZ4)  
broxah is baby.

“Oh, Martin...”

Mads whines as he sinks his head into his hands, blushing fiercely, unable to keep his gaze neither on nor off of the garment in Martin’s hands, or look the punk boy in the eye. The chiffon fabric slips luxuriously between Martin’s fingers as he plays with the dress he’s holding. “You’d look so cute and adorable in this, sweetheart,” he cooes, “will you try it on for me? Just for tonight?”

Red floods through Mads’s face again, but he nods, minutely, hesitantly, but desperately. “T-t-turn around, though,” says Mads as he takes the delicate piece of clothing into his own hands, “j-just in case it looks bad...”

“It won’t look bad.”

“Still,” Mads insists, avoiding Martin’s piercing gaze, “turn around?” Martin’s beautiful eyes, outlined with a hint of eyeliner today that sends a rush of heat spiralling through Mads’s gut, roll teasingly, but Martin obliges and flops flat on the bed to stare at the ceiling. His all-black, rough-looking clothing replete with belts and silver chains and rips stands out against the soft, creamy-coloured blankets that Mads absolutely adores, but it’s the perfect contrast to Mads - the contrast between Martin and him, the contrast between a punk and- and- and a... A girly boy, Mads thinks bitterly about himself. He tries to suppress the thought and just undress quickly.

He takes off his sky-blue hoodie and sets it neatly aside, then takes off his bleached-white skinny jeans and folds them next to the hoodie; after a moment of thought, he takes off his underwear, too, considering what type of dress it is, exactly. With a quick glance behind him to make sure he’s in the clear - “No peeking!” he says firmly, though Martin just giggles in response - Mads carefully lets the garment straighten out in his hands, and he holds it up to see how it fits. It takes him a few moments of struggling with the laced-up back of the short dress, but Mads gets it eventually. He tightens it to a comfortable fit and looks in the mirror, hands already enjoying the addictive texture of the smooth, satiny, sheer chiffon fabric in his favourite shade of pale rose. The lace at the hem is so pretty and delicate. Its gentle swishing against his mid-thigh feels like heaven on earth, gentle and soft and teasing.

And then his gaze travels upwards, and he is in hell.

Mads can’t help but think that the dress looks so wrong on him, highlighting every mistake in his stature, how a man like him was never meant to fit one of these beautiful babydoll dresses. How his shoulders are disgustingly broad compared to the tiny, dainty ribbon straps. How his chest looks painfully out of place in the pretty pink fabric, even though the chest of the dress isn’t padded and he theoretically should fill it out just fine. How his waist doesn’t look right, how his thighs are too muscular and not smooth and soft, how his hips are too boxy and slim, not curvy and sexy and gorgeous.

He never should have tried it on in the first place. Never should have desecrated such a fragile, delicate lingerie dress with his bad-fit, brutish appearances. Maybe he should just go back to wearing stupid, dark jackets and stupid, boring sweatpants.

“Almost done?”

The sound of Martin’s voice snaps Mads out of his reverie, and he sighs and nods. “Just a few more minutes.”

“You’re sure? It looks like it’s on to me,” Martin says, and Mads can see his eyes watching in the mirror.

At this point, it’s too late to tell Martin to turn away, but Mads tries anyway, saying “No- Martin, don’t look, it’s...”

“It’s what?”

“It- it...” Mads chokes down a sob. “It looks awful on me,” he murmurs, burying his face in his hands with the sheer embarrassment of it all and cursing himself when tears come to his eyes. He turns away from the mirror and quickly reaches a hand back to untie the laces and take off the dress.

Mads gasps when his hand meets Martin’s. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Martin says, holding the neatly-tied bow firmly in his fist, “bad thoughts again, baby?”

“No, it’s just...” A sigh. “i-it’s embarrassing... doesn’t look right.” Silently, Mads turns away and reaches for his clothes again, intending to put them back on and just enjoy the fact that at least he looks cute in big hoodies, just like everyone else, when Martin suddenly pulls him over to the mirror and hugs him tightly from behind, their bodies pressed together everywhere. The chains decorating Martin’s black jeans are cold and hard against the backs of Mads’s thighs, and all of a sudden Mads becomes acutely aware of how little fabric separates his bare body and Martin’s wandering, wanton hands. He shivers in Martin’s grip.

“What do you mean? You look so amazing like this,” Martin murmurs against Mads’s neck. The cool metal of his lip piercings only makes Mads shiver more, and a slight whimper escapes his throat.

“M-Martin...”

“You do,” Martin insists. “Look at this pretty lace against your skin! Look at how cute and flowy this is, don’t you just love it? Pink looks so good on you, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous.” A well-timed nip behind Mads’s ear punctuates Martin’s compliments and Mads gasps with a tiny moan. Martin pulls back ever so slightly at the noise, as if surprised and delighted by how he can affect Mads, and the grin that Mads sees in their reflections in the mirror lights sparks in his abdomen that quickly build into a consuming heat as Martin rubs against him and gropes him, all through the silky gauze, and sucks light marks into his neck and collarbones.

Mads takes a shaky breath dripping in arousal, and Martin turns Mads’s head to swallow every last whimper.

In a rush of movement, Martin spins Mads around again and pins him against the wall, diving back into Mads’s lips and chuckling softly when Mads trembles and moans so cutely. His lip-rings, still cool to the touch, seem to burn against Mads’s mouth. “Beautiful,” he murmurs as his hands explore how Mads’s body feels under the thin layer of chiffon silk, his fingers dipping into each dimple in Mads’s abs and tracing his hips, his lips nibbling along Mads’s neck and playing pretty melodies through Mads’s moans. Despite Martin’s best efforts, though, Mads doesn’t giggle his adorable little giggle at the compliment.

Instead, Mads just sighs and tries to push past the feeling that Martin is lying. He knows his boyfriend wouldn’t lie to him, he knows it well, but... he’s just so embarrassed. He can’t quite believe Martin’s words right now.

“Baby?” Martin asks, pulling Mads out of his own head, “is something wrong?”

Mads sighs. “I’m okay,” he says, not a lie, and he leans down - he leans down - and kisses Martin gently. But he can’t help but think of how ridiculous they must look, Mads so tall and strong and dressed up in babydoll lingerie, with his shorter punk-rock boyfriend gazing into his eyes with concern.

“Do you not like the dress? It’s okay if you don’t like it. I just thought you would like wearing it and I knew you would look amazing in it, it’s okay if you don’t like it, though.”

“N-no, it’s... It’s really pretty... thank you so much, I like it, I just-” Awkwardly, Mads tries to explain the odd, sinking, red-hot feeling of embarrassment in his chest. “I’m not... it feels like a bit too much...” .

“How so?”

“W-well, I just... I don’t know if I’m ready to.. to, you know... do that in just this...”

Martin’s eyebrows quirk in confusion. “I thought you didn’t like being naked?”

“This is better!” Mads says hurriedly, “I like this. I do, it’s- it’s nicer than being completely... yeah. B-but I still feel... too exposed? I’m sorry. This is stupid, I’m just being stupid, I’m sorry...”

“Hush, don’t be sorry,” Martin says firmly, “I’m glad you told me.” A soft kiss lands on butterfly wings between Mads’s eyes, and a soft smile answers it. “So, just wearing this is too much, too fast? Do you want to try adding some of the accessories you like, so you feel less exposed?” When Mads nibbles at his lips, thinking for a few moments longer than he had hoped, Martin continues, “I won’t be mad if you just want to take the dress off and wear your pretty hoodie instead, or if you wanna cuddle without sex tonight.”

“I’ll put some things on,” Mads decides at last. He breathes a sigh of relief when Martin backs away to let him sit at his cute, simple, pink vanity; Mads feels better already just by virtue of him sitting and feeling smaller while Martin stands behind him - newly shirtless, Mads notes with a blush.

“Sorry, baby,” Martin says, leaning on the back of Mads’s chair to give him a kiss, “I forgot you don’t like having to stand up next to me like that.”

“ ‘S okay,” Mads mumbles between kisses, “I feel better now, that’s what matters most.” Already the drawer of the vanity has been opened and a pretty blue jewellery organiser lays on the desktop. Mads eagerly opens it up and chooses his favourite pieces to put on his wrists and around his neck and in his hair. 

Ordinarily, he might ask for Martin’s opinion on which will look best, in order to make sure that he continues to push his limits a tiny bit and gets comfortable with wearing different things; tonight he picks out accessories that will ensure he stays in a better mindset and doesn’t get caught up in a flood of embarrassment. A fuzzy slap-bracelet with a plush Hello Kitty on it fits his wrist well, complemented by a collection of letter bracelets on his other arm. They read “pretty ♥ baby” and “m + m” and “ily bbyboy” and as Mads slips them onto his wrist, he feels Martin’s lips against a spot just behind his ear again, and he giggles when Martin whispers, “baby boy, baby boy, baby,” into his ear between each kiss.

“Help me with this collar?” Mads asks, giggling again as Martin nuzzles his neck.

“Of course,” Martin cooes. He takes the white-leather band with decorative flowers and a small crescent-moon charm into his hands and gently lines it up on Mads’s throat, fluffing out some of the silk petals of the flowers so the pink-edged blooms look perfect against the white leather and the tone of Mads’s skin, then carefully tightens the collar so that it is fitted enough to look good but still loose. “Want me to put on the matching ankle cuffs, too? Or did you have something else in mind for those?”

“Ah, c-could you? Help with the anklets, I mean... I just need to find them first.” Mads’s face scrunches in confusion as his hands rummage through the jewellery organiser to no avail, finding only beaded anklets and not the pretty leather bands with soft silk-petalled flowers.

“They’re in the drawer, aren’t they?” Martin reminds him, “because they didn’t fit in the case.”

“Oh, you’re right!” A bright smile, completely at ease, shines on Mads’s face as he takes out two collar-like anklets and hands them to Martin, who spins Mads’s chair around and kneels at Mads’s feet to tighten the bands around Mads’s ankles, leaving delicate kisses along Mads’s thighs before standing back up to tower over Mads. He leans down to kiss Mads gently. “Thank you,” Mads murmurs, eyes half-lidded.

“Anything for my baby,” Martin teases, kissing Mads more roughly and enjoying the soft whimpers that result. “Need anything else?”

“Um, a- a flower crown, maybe?”

“It would probably fall off when I fuck you,” Martin says bluntly. Mads blushes as pink as the flowers on his collar. “Maybe some rose pins, though?” He picks up a few small hairpins with pretty glass blooms on the ends and starts to arrange them in Mads’s hair, his tongue teasing at his lip piercings as he concentrates. With as much effort as he can muster, Mads sits perfectly still and admires himself in the smaller mirror of the vanity.

This looks so much better. The flowery collar is a piece of comfort to him, the first necklace he’d received from Martin and one part of a matching set that includes wrist cuffs and the ankle cuffs he’s wearing right now. Not that they ever chain the cuffs together! But the leather is soft and pretty and comfortable, and it helps to keep Mads grounded in the present as Martin puts the final hairpin in.

Mads giggles with joy, and Martin kisses his cheek. “Now aren’t you such a pretty boy,” Martin cooes, and Mads blushes as he nods eagerly. “You look so cute like this, Madsie, I could just _ravish_ you,” Martin says with a soft purr.

“P-please? Please?” Mads’s aquamarine eyes plead alongside his pretty pink lips, and his breath hitches in his throat as Martin’s eyes darken with lust.

“On the bed,” growls Martin.

Mads rushes to comply.

\---

“Good, princess?”

It’s all Mads can do to hum weakly.

“Oh, baby, you’re crying,” Martin murmurs. Mads doesn’t even have time to realise how wet his cheeks are before Martin is dabbing the tears away with soft tissue and plenty of chaste kisses, and he hums sleepily again, hugging Martin’s waist. “Happy tears? Sad tears?”

“No,” Mads begins slowly, “they’re I-love-you tears...”

He looks up blearily and is met with the softest smile he’s ever seen on Martin’s face, a smile reserved just for him, and a chuckle reserved just for him as well. “You’re adorable, baby. I love you, too.”

With minor difficulty, Martin sits Mads up and slips the thankfully-unsoiled lingerie off of Mads’s tired, sweaty body and folds it up in a corner of the room to be hand-washed the next day. Then, he brings Mads’s beautiful sky-coloured hoodie and a pair of comfy boxers over and slips them onto Mads before taking off the extra accoutrement - order matters; Mads hates being fully naked - and laying them neatly atop Mads’s vanity so the sleepy, cute pastel boy can rearrange them how he likes in the morning. “Ready for bed?” 

A half-asleep mumble answers him. “Wan’ a bow in m’ hair.” Mads’s face is already pressed against his favourite pink lion plushie, and Martin throws a soft white blanket over his boyfriend's bare legs before quickly putting on boxers and grabbing a pretty pastel galaxy bow to clip into Mads’s hair.

“There you go.”

Mads sighs happily and makes grabby hands at Martin, tempting him into laying down and snuggling up atop his chest as soon as he does. 

A soft, lovestruck sigh falls from Martin’s lips.

“Love you, baby.”

“Love you too, Mar.”


End file.
